Jeff the Killer
by supersparta333
Summary: Jeff the Killer has been on the road for a while, and has killed so many people he's lost count. Now, he faces an adversary that will push him to the edge. Will he be able to conquer this new foe, or be a victim to another being, who also has quite a kill count? Reviews, suggestions, and critiques are welcome!


Jeff made his way down the empty highway, and pulled the hood of his white hoodie further down his face to keep the rain off his face. There was nothing especially odd about the young 24 year old: He was skinny, and had extremely pale skin, which contrasted with his short, dark black hair. Jeff heard a car approaching behind him. He contemplated whether or not he should stick his thumb out, and eventually decided against it. The car passed Jeff, but than pulled to the side of the highway in front of him. It was than that Jeff noticed the sirens on top of the car: it was a police vehicle. An officer got out of the car and shined a flashlight towards Jeff. "What are you doing out here, man? It's 3:00 in the morning!" Jeff kept walking, and as he passed the officer, he felt a strong urge to reach for the object in the pocket of his hoodie. Suddenly, the officer grabbed Jeff by the shoulder. "Hey, I asked you a question." Jeff's instinct's took over: he whirled around so that he was facing the officer, and before the cop could react, Jeff had removed the object from his pocket and put it to good use. It took the officer almost a whole second to react to the large knife that was protruding from his chest. But by then, it was already to late: the knife had severed the man's aorta. "Go..to..sleep..." Jeff whispered to himself, as he pushed the cop off the blade. The officer dropped to the ground with a thud. Jeff checked the man's pulse, and felt nothing. He picked up the officer, and put him in the driver's seat of the vehicle. He turned on the car, and put the car into drive, though he kept his hand pressed on the brakes. He took the dead man's foot, and positioned it so that the gas pedal would be pressed. He released his hold on the brake and quickly withdrew his arm as the car began to move away. It raced about 100 feet down the road before veering off the highway and plummeting down a nearby drop off. A smile crept across Jeff's face walked down the highway to examine his work. He looked over the edge of the drop off, and saw the vehicle was destroyed, and that the chest wound would surely attributed to the wreck. The rain would wash away the blood on the road, and even if someone suspected what had truly happened, he would be long gone. It was only then Jeff realized how late it was. He yawned, an action that caused the self inflicted scars on the corners of his mouth to reopen slightly. This had happened many times in the four years he'd had them, four years since he had put a knife in his own mouth and cut his own flesh, so he barely felt the skin separating. The scars were cut from each corner of his mouth to about halfway across his cheeks, in an upward angle, so it looked like a smile. He held his knife out into the rain to wash the blood off, and returned it to his hoodie pocket, into the crude leather sheath he had fashioned. He continued his walk down the highway. Usually, he'd wander at random, not really caring where he was or where he was heading, but this time, he almost felt like he was being pulled in a certain direction. Just before dawn, he came across a sign that read: "Grant City. Population: 4,500,000." Jeff the Killer smiled, and entered the city limits. Before long, Jeff came upon a motel. He went inside, and walked towards the counter. The woman at the counter was reading a book, one of those romance novels you buy at the dollar store for about $3. Jeff cleared his throat, causing the woman to look up. "May I help you?" she asked. Jeff removed his hood, and the woman's eyes widened slightly at the sight Jeff's scars. "I don't like it when people stare at them, just so you know. I need a room." The woman quickly looked away, and informed Jeff that it would be $18 dollars for the night, and that would cover until 12 am tomorrow. Jeff handed over the money, and received the keycard to the room. Jeff walked down the hall and steeped into his room. The room was mostly empty, with a bed, a cabinet, a TV, a small refrigerator, and a bathroom. Jeff kicked off his shoes and laid his hoodie on the floor next to the bed. He turned on the TV, and flipped through the channels until he found the news. He was hoping to find out if his victim from the last town had been found yet. Hell, they should have: it had been there for 3 days. When he first started this new life, he had tried to stay as far under the radar as possible, but now he took a sort of pride when his work was reported on. Instead, the news was reporting on another murder, this one taking place in this city. The picture of the victim was a young woman, early twenties, brunette with blond highlights. They then warned that the next few images were extremely graphic. Jeff was impressed. The woman was practically inside out, with her torso completely ripped open. There were bruises all along her arms, and were in a strange, coil like pattern. Here organs, or what was left of them, were still in the torso, but had been ripped out, put into plastic bags, and stuffed back in. They did eventually mention Jeff's victim, but by then, Jeff was lost in thought. He was deep in thought, wondering what sort of person could pull this off. They had reported there were no footprints, and no other evidence found at the scene relating to the murderer. Jeff yawned again. When was the last time he'd slept? A day, possibly two? The 24 year old laid on his back, and before he noticed it happening, he was asleep.


End file.
